


Apricot Pastries

by Zelan



Category: Yandere Simulator (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Food, Multi, Polyamory, this ship is consuming my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 19:59:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12092340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelan/pseuds/Zelan
Summary: Ayano realizes that nobody has to give up anything for all of them to be happy.aka polyamorous yansim because Amai is the best character in the entire game





	Apricot Pastries

**Author's Note:**

> "Ume daifuku (梅大福)  
> A version which contains sweetened Japanese apricot instead of azuki sweetfilling."
> 
> -from the Wikipedia page for "Daifuku"

I am frustrated.

It took a fair amount of willpower to keep myself from ending Osana's life. I wanted so badly to have her out of the way permanently, to get her alone and then do the deed nice and clean and quick. I almost did, once, my fingers ready on the knife, but I remembered seeing Senpai smile when he walked through the gates with her. Not a lovestruck smile like the ones she gave him, but one borne from longtime familiarity, like the ones that I saw pass between Kokona and Saki on a daily basis.

I realized that he harbored no feelings toward her, but she was still someone important to him. So I let her live, choosing to simply redirect her attention instead. It took a lot of work on my part. That idiot boy - I can't be bothered to remember his name - needed me to hold his hand every step of the way. But, miraculously, she fell for him.

I don't know if the relationship will last forever, but I only need it to last until Senpai is mine. Once I have him, she won't be able to take him away from me. 

But now this.

Shaking my head a bit, I pull my attention back to the present. Osana isn't my concern anymore. It's this girl who showed up today, the president of the cooking club, who's the problem. She's about my height, and doesn't look especially strong, so she should be easy to overpower. And this time, there will be no cumbersome childhood connection with Senpai to stand in my way.

She chats happily with Senpai as she works, the afternoon sun streaming through the window to alight on her hair, like sunbeams breaking through the treetops on a walk through the woods. When she looks up I catch sight of her green eyes, which match the mental image perfectly.

I edge into the room, thinking that I might be able to steal a knife and hide it on me for later. I stand near the knife block, waiting for my opportunity, when suddenly the girl turns around and is face-to-face with me.

""Oh, hello!" she says, her face radiant. "I haven't seen you before. My name is Amai Odayaka. What's yours?"

"Ayano Aishi," I answer after a beat, unable to come up with a valid reason not to answer.

"It's lovely to meet you, Ayano-chan!"

Before she can respond, the microwave behind her chimes and she immediately focuses her attention to it, pulling out a plate of dough. I'm unable to help watching her work as she expertly spreads the dough with powdered fingers, completely focused. Even Senpai standing at her shoulder doesn't distract her. I don't know how she does it - I'm all nerves, and he isn't even looking at me.

It takes her little more than five minutes to finish. When she straightens up again with a proud smile, wiping her hands on her apron, a neat platter of _daifuku_ sits on the counter in front of her. She picks it up and places it in the middle of the table with a call of, "Come and get them while they're hot!"

She must be more well-known for her cooking than I realized, because everyone standing in or outside the room makes a mad rush for the food. It becomes chaos and I recognize my chance. As I silently take a knife and hide it in my skirt, I'm vaguely aware of Amai laughing and promising another batch, and of Senpai smiling as he bites into his treat.

And then Amai stands in front of me. "Yan-chan, would you like one?" Without waiting for my answer, she pushes a pastry into my hands. She turns away before I can protest or give it back.

I make my way over to the door; there's no point in remaining here, since there's no way to get her alone for now. I'll start memorizing her routine in the meantime.

Instinctively, I raise the _daifuku_ to my lips and take a bite of it. My breath catches and I'm stopped in my tracks. The thick, syrupy apricot taste spreads through my mouth, coating my tongue, the back of my throat, so exquisite that a soft moan escapes me.

I stare down at the _daifuku_ , everything else forgotten. The urge to shovel it in my mouth all at once eats away at me, but instead, sinking down into a chair, I nibble off another piece. The fading flavor intensifies once again. 

The next several minutes are pure bliss. It registers at the edge of my senses that Amai has made a second batch and handed it out to everyone who missed out the first time, but I'm primarily preoccupied with my own food.

By the time I'm finished, the room is nearly empty. I lick my lips for the last traces of sweet apricot and then, after a moment's consideration, lick my fingers as well.

"Did you like it?" Amai walks around the table to face me, her eyes shining. I nod dumbly. "Yeah, it was..." I can't finish the sentence. It's impossible to put into words how my mouth is still tingling. How even though the flavor is already fading, the memory of it is strong. Still, Amai seems to understand.

"We should all be getting to class." Senpai's voice startles me. I hadn't realized he was still here.

Amai glances at the clock on the wall. "You'll both be late anyway," she informs us. "Why don't you stay and help me clean up? The teachers know how important it is to keep the kitchen equipment clean. You'll get in late with no trouble."

Senpai smiles at her and sets right to work. Of course he's happy to help, perfect as he is. I automatically move to do the same. The three of us work in silence for a time, soaping down utensils and equipment that I can't even name. 

Senpai leaves first, giving both of us - _both of us_ \- a little wave as he heads out the door. And just like that I am alone with Amai. Her back is to me as she dries off the plate that she'd served her treats on.

Looking at the pastel pink plate makes me hesitate, even as my fingers grasp at the knife's hilt. Amai towels it off with circular motions, brisk yet gentle, and I find myself absorbed again in watching her hands. Her motions are much more mechanical than when she was kneading the dough. That was done with a delicate touch, as if she was responding to the dough and what it wanted. This, it seems, is the dull part of cooking, the part that she would rather not do but puts up with for the sake of the final product.

A thought probes at the back of my mind, my grip slackening. Senpai is my ultimate goal, my own _ume daifuku_. Getting rid of any rivals was only the path to him. I had told myself that it was necessary to put their well-being out of my mind, to get it over with so that I could have my Senpai. But I remember how I faltered with Osana. How I stared at her in the same way that I stare at Amai now, with a knife in my skirt that will never taste blood, at least not by my hand.

Because Amai's goal is to spread joy. Mine is only to hoard it.

I dash away, unable to bear watching her innocent face any longer. I think that I hear her call out after me, but I am already gone from the room - the only trace of left me is the knife still clattering against the countertop.

\-----

I return to the Cooking Club every day after that. Each time, I tell myself I shouldn't. It will only hurt more, seeing Amai chattering with Senpai while she busies herself creating more treats to share.

This is more emotion than I have ever felt in my entire life. It takes an immense amount of strength to fight down the agony of knowing that I have to give up my Senpai. He and Amai are a good match. A perfect one. Already, there are whispers in the hallway of bets being placed on when she will confess to him. He is slipping away from me. But it's for the best.

Each day, I watch Amai. And each day, I experience for myself whatever it is she's made. I had thought that perhaps the _daifuku_ were her best, that nothing else could possibly live up to them, but it's simply not the case. Each dessert that graces that serving platter is just as heavenly as the last. 

On Thursday, I am shocked to feel a tear slip down my cheek as I swallow my last bite.

\-----

And then Friday comes. I trudge to the Cooking Club with my heart heavy, telling myself that this is the last time. It has to be. I won't be able to handle silently watching the two of them any longer.

It's quite a surprise when Amai immediately perks up as soon as she sees me slink through the doorway.

"Ayano-chan! You're here!" She pulls me into a quick, tight hug before grasping my hand and pulling me to the counter where she usually works. 

Senpai is waiting there for us. I barely notice Senpai.

I struggle for breath as I ride the aftermath of the thrill that went through me when Amai took my hand. As my heartbeat slows and my thoughts begin to organize themselves, I manage to put the feeling into words.

Amai invokes the same reaction in me that Senpai does. The same ability to allow me to truly _feel_.

"Would you like to help us bake, Ayano?" Her face is lit with excitement, and Senpai me gives an encouraging nod from behind her. I mimic his nod, not trusting myself to speak. Amai grins broadly and produces a lilac cloth from her apron pocket. "Here, let me tie your hair back." I close my eyes as she does so, barely repressing a shiver as she tucks my hair carefully behind my ears.

"You look so cute," she coos, taking both of my hands in hers, eyes sparkling. "Here, come help us knead the dough! We're making _ume daifuku_ again. Like from Monday."

Senpai is already bent over his own bowl, kneading away at his lump of dough. I hesitate in front of another bowl, reaching a hand out to poke the shapeless mass that rests inside.

"Look - like this." Amai's arms reach out and she's embracing me from behind, her arms pressed against mine. She moves my hands so that they're in time with hers, falling into a smooth rhythm, and I can't help the smile that twitches at the corners of my lips.

After a time, she leaves to tend to her own bowl of dough. I'm disappointed at first, but as I continue working I realize that the euphoric feeling hasn't faded yet - it's stayed with me even though we're no longer touching. I risk glancing up and am startled to see both of them looking back. I blink in surprise, my fingers faltering. Senpai averts his eyes, as though he's just as startled to be caught staring as I am. Amai just gives me her same sunny smile that I've grown used to in the past week before turning back to her work with renewed gusto.

We are the only ones here. The other club members were ready for the weekend, I guess. The silence between us is beginning to feel comfortable despite my earlier uncertainty. I feel at peace with these two calming presences by my said.

"So, Taro," Amai begins, breaking the silence, and I realize with a jolt that before now I had no idea what Senpai's name was. "I think we ought to ask now."

"Ask what?" Ask me? There's no one else here.

"Oh! Uh, yeah. Yeah." Senpai - Taro - bobs his head awkwardly. "Yeah, let's -"

“I’m finished,” I announce, placing my last piece on the serving platter. Amai immediately snaps to attention.

Taro and I don't need Amai to tell us to back away. The final touches are her job. She knows how to do it best, and more quickly than either of us, which means that we'll all be able to eat sooner.

I peer over her shoulder in silent fascination. I'd watched this from afar, but this was the first time that I could truly observe the master at work. Amai's brow furrows in concentration as she deftly decorates each little cake.

"You're so good," Taro mutters. Amai purses her lips to hold back a pleased smile.

"So good," I agree. Of course, 'so good' doesn't even begin to cover it, but any further adjectives that might describe her skill are forgotten when Amai steps back and gestures to the platter with a flourish.

"Bon appétit!" Taro and I both lunge for one at the same time. He snatches it first and waves it teasingly at me, eyebrows raised in a mocking expression.

"Hey!" I pull off my bonnet and swat him with it. "That's not very gentlemanly of you." I pretend to pout. "Haven't you ever heard of 'ladies first'?"

Amai giggles. "It's all right, Yan-chan. There's plenty to go around." She hands me another, putting a quick end to our fake feud.

We stand in a circle, chewing contentedly. An air of rapture envelops us. Amai and Taro both close their eyes, basking in it. Here in this moment, enjoying food and companionship, I feel a deep connection with both of them, as if it was inevitable that we would come together for this.

As if she feels it too, Amai opens her eyes and tilts her head, regarding me thoughtfully. Out of nowhere, she takes Taro's hand. My heart plummets as I stare almost uncomprehendingly at their joined hands.

And then she grabs mine. I instinctively tighten my grip on her hand at the sudden contact.

Looking up reveals that both of them wear expressions more nervous than I've ever seen on either of them.

"Ayano, we were wondering if..." Amai trails off, absentmindedly licking a trace of apricot gathered at the corner of her mouth.

Taro gently takes my hand in his free one, closing the circle. "If you... if you would be interested in dating us." His voice is remarkably calm, even somewhat formal, but his wide, frightened eyes give him away.

I struggle to understand. "Dating...? Dating both of you?"

An awkward pause. "Yup," Taro finally says, dragging a foot along the ground.

"We'd just noticed how you were watching us together," Amai breaks in. "I'd asked Taro on Tuesday if he would go out with me, but then we just sort of noticed you and you looked so cute and lonely and we talked about it yesterday and... we just decided to go for it."

"And, I mean, it's not super common or accepted right now, but polyamory's totally a thing. It's on, like, Tumblr and stuff." Taro seems to second guess himself after that sentence.

I can't quite gather any logical thoughts together with both of them holding my hands, their eyes filled with hope and nerves and fear. 

I can't quite gather any logical thoughts, but to hell with logic.

I give each of their hands a squeeze. "Yeah," I whisper.

Warmth fills me from head to toe as I watch the delight spread across their faces. My own expression mirrors theirs.

Amai pulls us both in for a group hug. "This is gonna be perfect!" she squeals. A mischievous look flits across her soft features. "Who needs a cherry tree when you've got apricot pastries, right?"

**Author's Note:**

> I left "daifuku" untranslated because there's not really a good translation in English, but I used "Apricot Pastries" in the end and as the title because I wanted to say something really (not) clever about the cherry tree. Hopefully that wasn't too confusing. c:


End file.
